


sleepless

by lester_sheehan



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, pain as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lester_sheehan/pseuds/lester_sheehan
Summary: After Tullia's death, the nights are not easy. A short drabble.





	sleepless

He seldom found solace in his dreams.

Usually he relived her final moments, waking up in sheets soaked through with sweat, his hair in disarray and his eyes wide, but sometimes, very rarely, he dreamt that she was alive—breathing, smiling, laughing with abandon—and these were the worst of all, for when he awoke, the emptiness felt heavier somehow, and the hollowness within his heart appeared to cave in. He longed to follow her eternally, to never let her go.

Atticus was often there by his side, the tiniest of comforts. And tonight, when Cicero awoke, he clung to his arm, unable to catch his breath, tears streaming. “I am sorry,” he said. “This is not—acceptable. I am sorry.”

Atticus made a gentle hushing sound. “Do not apologise for your emotions, Marcus. Not with me.”

Shaking his head—either to brush away Atticus’ sentiment, or to rid his eyes of the vision still before them—Cicero said, “It has been months. Everyone expects me to—” He didn’t finish the sentence, but Atticus could hear the shame that lay within it. The indignation, too. “I try my hardest to put on a brave face in public. I do not let them see my sorrow, but sometimes, I am far too aware of my failure. They all know I am struggling.”

“You are a kind father,” Atticus said. “They all know how loved your daughter was.” He regretted his phrasing almost instantly, feeling Cicero tense. “ _Is,_ he corrected.”

“No, you are right. I must accept that she is gone,” Cicero said, his eyes fixed on some undetermined point, some darkened corner of the room. “But how do I make these dreams go away?” His voice was quiet, as though not really in need of an answer at all.

Atticus looked down at Cicero’s hand on his arm and placed his own over the top. They did not go back to sleep that night. 


End file.
